"Fine."
The Hand of Judgment thought for a moment, then nodded. After all, with the Witch of Disease present, there was no chance he could kill the Witch of Death today. But if they could disrupt her breakthrough ritual, that was already a victory.
Failure to stabilize a Mindscape World during a Saint-rank breakthrough would bring catastrophic backlash. At best, the person's power would regress; at worst, their spirit would shatter. Either way, the Death Witch wouldn't be able to attempt the breakthrough again for at least ten years.
And ten years was enough. By then, reinforcements from the Holy See would have long since arrived. When that time came, even the Witch of Disease—no matter how troublesome—would be nothing more than a pest to be crushed by true Saints.
"In that case," Pestis said coolly, "withdraw your Mindscape World."
The Hand of Judgment gave her a cold glance but complied. Once he retracted his domain, Pestis followed suit, dispelling her own world of plague and ruin.
As the two returned to reality, what they saw next stunned them both.
"Wait—she's almost done constructing it? Already?" The Hand of Judgment's eyes widened. Without hesitation, he prepared to launch his strongest spell toward the barrier below.
But Pestis, fiddling with the dark-green orb in her hand, gave him a cold, warning glare. "I told you," she said, voice icy, "I'll handle this."
Seeing her expression, the Hand of Judgment reluctantly lowered his weapon. Only then did Pestis step forward, stopping right beside the glowing barrier.
With a casual wave of her hand, a wisp of green energy seeped into the barrier. A moment later came the hiss of corrosion—zzz… zzzzzz…—as if acid were eating through steel.
The same barrier that even the Storm Witch Gale would have needed considerable effort to break…dissolved before Pestis like paper in flame.
But when the barrier finally fell and the figure inside came into view—everyone froze.
"Wait a second… who the hell are you?" The Hand of Judgment blurted out before he could stop himself.
Even Gale frowned in confusion. "You're… the current chieftain of the Fangwolf Tribe?"
It was clear she recognized him. The Fangwolf Chieftain slowly opened his eyes—only to find several legendary beings staring down at him. Startled, his Mindscape nearly collapsed on the spot.
Fortunately, a powerful psychic compulsion within his soul held him together, commanding him to press on—to complete his breakthrough at any cost.
So he shut his eyes once more, suppressing his panic, and focused on stabilizing his Mindscape.
"…Looks like we've been mistaken," Pestis said coldly, glaring at the Hand of Judgment. But even as she spoke, she cast a sidelong glance at the Fangwolf Chieftain, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
"He's attempting a breakthrough here, of all places? At the border? Is that coincidence… or part of someone's plan?"
Before she could think further, the Hand of Judgment suddenly attacked, launching a bolt of violet thunder toward the Fangwolf Chieftain.
Seeing this, Pestis immediately raised her hand, blocking the attack with a wall of plague energy.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Nothing," he said, voice casual and mocking. "My hand slipped. Or perhaps… I was just curious. It's not every day I see a beastman with the talent to reach Saint rank."
"You—!" Gale's fury erupted, and she nearly lunged at him on the spot.
But Pestis grabbed her arm and pulled her back beside the Fangwolf Chieftain. "You two now owe me two lives," she said icily.
Then, without waiting for an answer, she expanded her Mindscape once again.…
Far away, in the northern grasslands of the Aila Kingdom—several figures streaked swiftly across the sky.
At the forefront were two beastmen, each carrying a hexagonal coffin on their backs. Behind them followed a squad of ten wolf cavalry, each rider and mount both at Fifth Tier strength.
Suddenly, a white-cloaked figure appeared ahead, silently blocking their path.
"Wait. Something's wrong." A hawk-headed beastman, though wingless, narrowed his eyes warily.
Beside him, a burly wolfman sniffed the air, puzzled.
"What's wrong?"
"It's a Holy Knight," the hawk-beastman said grimly.
"To walk alone across the Bloodstained Plains—only a Saint could do that."
But the wolfman just laughed carelessly. "So what if he's a Saint-rank Knight? There are two of us, and he's not even a witch. Even if he's implanted with a Holy Relic, haven't we already fought those types before? We sent them running last time."
"Overconfidence will get us killed," the hawk-beastman muttered, clearly unconvinced. He glanced around cautiously, then pointed northeast.
"We'll circle from there. Head to the Aila capital. The Demon Lord of Agony is stationed there—if we run into an ambush, she can cover us."
"Fine." But just as they prepared to move, the white-cloaked figure ahead suddenly vanished.
The hawk-beastman froze. For a moment, he thought it was a hallucination. He rubbed his eyes and looked again—but the figure was still gone.
A chill ran down his spine. He didn't need anyone to tell him—they had just encountered a true master. He was about to give the order to retreat when—
A cold female voice whispered right beside his ear.
"Were you… looking for me?"
"What—?!" The hawk-beastman flinched, heart pounding. Instinct took over, and he immediately unleashed his Mindscape World.
In an instant, the world turned into a ashen wasteland, blanketed by a storm of black-eyed ravens.
At the same time, the wolfman beside him expanded his own Mindscape—but strangely, instead of clashing, the two worlds merged seamlessly.
Death energy intertwined. Rotting direwolves rose from the earth, and in the distant horizon, a full silver moon climbed slowly into the sky.
Their synchronization was perfect—clearly the result of countless hours of practice. With their worlds fused, they finally dared to look toward the source of the voice.
The figure stood still—a woman in a white cloak, strands of silver hair spilling out from beneath her hood.
It was Morrigan, a clone of Hel.
Hel had implanted one of her replicated Mindscape sigils into a beastman at the peak of Tier Six, disguising his breakthrough as the Death Witch's ascension—a bait to lure both Churches' strongest forces.
But to make the deception convincing, she needed a second front—a distraction that would prevent the enemy from realizing her true goal.
And for that…she had set her sights on the transport convoy led by Gale and the others—the one carrying the captured witches.